Who Dares Wins
by Zahal
Summary: In the spring of 1967 Israel is threatened with destruction by its Arab neighbors. The United States is reluctant to believe that such an attack will happen and Jack Ryan is sent in to find proof. If Jack can find the proof then Israel may be able to strike first and survive. If not, the future of the Middle East may be a Soviet Red.
1. Chapter 1

Marchand T. MacDermotRoe

 **Who Dares Wins**

By Marchand T. MacDermotRoe

Introduction

Darkness, there's nothing but darkness. A sound rings through the air, crack, zip, snap. The clang of the bolt of a Soviet made AK-47 echoes with a nerve shattering distinction. His heart is racing like engine, his hands feel numb and there is an odd aching in his ears. The sound rings out again, crack, zip, snap. He can almost feel the ripples in the air. In the darkness a man screams. It is a gut wrenching, nauseating scream.

Suddenly, in the darkness a black clad figure emerges. Standing silently, a skeletal figure, dressed in black fatigues walks slowly and ominously forward. His face is still obscured but in his hands is the unmistakable weapon of every peasant army, a rugged and beaten AK-47, with a magazine in the well and the safety off. The creature, if you can call him that, raises the weapon and takes aim.

Jack's eyes snap open and he takes an intense breath in. His heart is in this throat and pounding so heard it should break a rib. Sweat is pouring from his face. "Jesus Christ" Jack sighs as he realizes he's awake and on the sofa in his living room. He sits up, and rubbing his face looks at the TV, realizing once again he fell asleep on the couch watching Fox News. On the table is an empty glass of Glenfidich Scotch and smoldering cigar. This is just another Tuesday night for Jack Ryan.

Jack looks over at the clock, it's 0450. He has to get up in an hour anyway so why try to go back to sleep. He staggers to his feet and running his fingers through his hair, Jack walks to the shower. _Sleeping never gets easier_ Jack ponders to himself as he turns on the hot water. What he wouldn't give for just one good night's sleep, just one night without the nightmares, just one night without the feeling of panic, just one night of peace. Jack's thoughts are interrupted by looking at himself in the mirror. "Holy shit I look like smashed ass", he mutters out loud. Fumbling about for his razor and soap and gets in the shower. He's a minimalist alright, razor, washcloth and all purpose soap.

The task seems almost automatic now as Jack finishes and gets dressed. He puts on his dark blue suit, white shirt and blue tie. Even though he feels like a donkey kicked him, he still has to make sure everything is in precise order. Few things drive him crazier than a line out of place, a wrinkled shirt or hair unkempt. An old Staff Sergeant once told him that you can tell a lot about a man from the way he wears his uniform, if it looks like garbage, chances are he's garbage.

Grabbing his ID and credentials, Jack walks out the door. He enjoys the stroll through the car to the parking lot. It's peaceful and quiet at 0520 in the morning. A cool mist hangs in the air and a gentle breeze passes by. He takes in the spring air with a refreshing deep breath. There is something about the moist, cool air that clears his mind and brings him a sense of absolute calm.

He steps over and gets into his car, a 1963 Buick Special. He turns on vehicle and the radio kicks over. Over the speakers echoes a familiar song, Au Fond Du Temple Saint. Jack thinks to himself, those guys know just what song to play at the ass end of dawn. Jack loves Opera, mainly because it is passionate and driven. It speaks to the deepest part of the soul and takes us to places we hitherto thought impossible.

The drive this morning seems to take longer than usual but Jack doesn't mind. A nice drive, some good opera and no traffic, what more could a man ask for. His drive to CIA Headquaters in Langley goes uneventfully and he pulls up to the front gate. He shows his credentials at the gate. "Morning Mr. Ryan" belts out SGT Bill Mitchells.

A former First Sergeant in the US Army's 2nd Ranger Battalion, SGT Bill Mitchells is a short, stocky man in his early 50s. His voice is deep and loud which tend to throw most people off guard. A veteran of innumerable battles, SGT Bill Mitchells is enjoying his retirement as a CIA police Sergeant. He chats up the secretaries on their way into work and shoots the breeze with agents off to their next mission. As a young soldier he used to always say that he was "living the dream". Now he feels that he truly is.

Jack can't help but wonder how in the hell anyone is this enthusiastic this early in the morning. "Morning Bill. Did you have a cup of hoaah this morning?" Jack said with affectionate sarcasm. SGT Mitchells with a sly smile responds "An old soldier always remembers false motivation is better than no motivation Mr. Ryan." As the arm to the front gate rises and Jack begins to pull his car away, he stops and chuckling says to SGT Bill Mitchells "Bill you just remember, never go full Hooaah." With a hardy laugh the two old soldiers part ways.


	2. Chapter 2

Marchand T. MacDermotRoe

 **Who Dares Wins**

By Marchand T. MacDermotRoe

CHAPTER 2

Jack makes his way into the building and up to the office of Joseph "Joe" Zimmerman, the Deputy Director for Clandestine Operations. Jack has always hated getting called to his boss's office. If working in Clandestine Operations has taught him anything it's that when the boss calls it can mean only one of two things, you're in trouble or you have an assignment.

Jack always preferred to be in the field. This was because he would usually be left alone. In the field and far away from Headquarters, Jack was just left to his own devices. He had a mission, he accomplished that mission and did it all without having to deal with a bunch of bureaucrats in Washington. However, the time in between missions was often miserable since it meant sitting behind a desk with the same bureaucrats Jack spent all time trying to avoid.

For the last nine months Jack had done nothing but sit behind his desk and analyze intelligence briefings. He would then email the results of his analysis to his desk supervisor and from there proceed to have his entire analysis torn apart. It was mind numbing work for a field agent and Jack ached to get back into the action. Hopefully, this meeting would bring him good news. Hopefully, this meeting would take him out of the analysis office and back into Clandestine Operations.

Arriving at Deputy Director Zimmerman's office Jack takes a deep breath and with a sigh mutters to himself "Fuck it" and knocks on the door. Deputy Director Zimmerman bellows in a deep gravelly voice "You know how a door knob works don't you?" Jack opens the door which for some reason feels like it weighs a ton. Walking into the office Jack closes the door behind himself and straightens his back, snapping to attention. Just like reporting to the Company Commander, old habits die hard.

At his desk, smoking a pipe, is the 58 year old Deputy Director. Bald and short, his face crisscrossed with worry lines from years of service to his country. His broad chest and big arms gave him the resemblance of an old bull who, though despite his years, is still capable of goring those that cross his path. His office wall was lined with awards dating back to the old Office of Strategic Services, OSS. On his desk sat a picture of Zimmerman dressed in olive drab combat uniform, next to a Red Army Officer in Berlin May 1945 just after the city fell to the Soviets. Zimmerman had been the first American to enter the former capital of the Third Reich and it was his most treasured possession.

"Agent Jack Ryan reporting Sir" Jack rattles off. "Sit down Jack. Please leave the formalities" Zimmerman says gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. As puffs on his pipe Zimmerman looks over a short stack of papers on his desk. Adjusting his glasses he looks up at Jack. "How's the desk life treating you?" Shaking his head Jack decides honesty is the best policy "Truthfully sir, it sucks." Deputy Director Zimmerman cracks a half smile and tells Jack "Well you're days of exile to a desk may very well be at an end. I'm sure you've been following the situation in the Middle East. That Soviet stooge Nasser is causing trouble again." Zimmerman passes Jack the small stack of papers on his desk saying "We just received this from the Cairo Office."

Jack is all too familiar with the situation in Egypt. The country has been a one man dictatorship ruled by a former Egyptian Army Officer Colonel Gamal Abdul Nasser. He had been a member of a group of Officers in the Army of Egypt's former King Farouk. On the 23rd of July, 1952 the Free Officers led by the middle aged General Mohamed Naguib toppled the King and installed General Naguib as the country's new leader. This was largely inspired by the King's failure to defeat the Israeli's in the 1948 Arab-Israeli war.

Nasser had been General Naguib's right hand man in the coup and General Naguib had ensured Nasser a prominent position. However, this happy partenership didn't last for long. In 1956 Nasser overthrew General Naguib and made himself the sole ruler of Egypt with the rather misleading title of President. Nasser then proceeded to provoke a war with Britain, France and Israel in 1956 with resulted in a UN mediated ceasefire. This stalemate, which Nasser claimed as a victory, only spurred him on to more aggressive action.

President Nasser was an Arab Nationalist which held the unique qualities of being a cross between Fascism and Socialism. He allied himself with the Soviet Union and did everything in his power to topple the US allied Arab monarchies in Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Iraq and Jordan in the name of uniting the Arab people in one United Arab Republic. Nasser acquired the weapons for this great endeavor from the Soviet Union who felt that any enemy of the west was a friend of theirs.

By 1967 Nasser was embroiled in a protracted war in Yemen against the Yemeni Monarchists and the Saudi Army. This war had claimed the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers and had drawn away Egypt's best fighting units. The war was going so badly for the Egyptians that in order to stave off total defeat Nasser had resorted to using chemical weapons. This had made the war incredibly unpopular amongst ordinary Egyptians and many analysts within the CIA believed that it wasn't too long before Nasser would be overthrown in a coup.

However, the report that Jack was reading flew in the face of everything he had been hearing about Egypt. Far from Nasser retreating in the face of growing opposition, he instead seems to have decided to redirect his people's anger. The report states that Nasser has closed access to the Straight of Tiran, effectively cutting off the Israeli port of Eilat from all shipping. Additionally, Nasser has ordered the UN Peacekeepers stationed in the Sinai peninsula since the 1956 to leave within 48 hours.

With astonishment Jack looks up at Deputy Director Zimmerman "You mean to tell me that Nasser's plan to solve the problem of one quagmire of a war is to threaten another one?" Zimmerman shakes his head "That's just it Jack. I don't think it's an idle threat. Nasser has made himself very unpopular at home and within the wider Arab world. Arabs are tired of killing Arabs so Nasser is providing them with someone else to fight instead. It would be a holy war, against a common non-Arab enemy to unite the Arab world under his banner."

Jack asks "But where would Nasser get the tanks, planes and soldiers to pull off something like this, especially with so much of his military tied down in Yemen." Zimmerman reaches into his desk and pulls out three black and white photos. They appear to show Russian made Topolev bombers sitting on the tarmac of an Egyptian Air Force runway. Zimmerman tells Jack "These bombers were just delivered as a gift from Soviet Premier Alexei Kosygin. When they landed they had the red star of the Soviet Air Force. 24 hours later they all bore the roundel of the Egyptian Air Force. Brand new Soviet made BMP Armored Personnel Carriers and T-62 Tanks have been appearing in and around Cairo. Nasser has even begun to call up Reservists. Everything seems to point to a mass mobilization."

Jack can feel himself beginning to tense up, the gravity of the situation resting on his shoulders like millstone. While examining a photograph of one of the Topolev bombers Jack asks Zimmerman "So what exactly is President Johnson planning on doing about this? If Nasser is serious and he invades Israel, we could loose our most important beach head against the Soviets in the Middle East." Zimmerman sits back in his chair and takes a long drag on his pipe. Exhaling through his nose Zimmerman explains.

"In essence our President doesn't believe Nasser will really do it. The Israeli's are convinced Nasser will attack and the President thinks they won't. The Israeli's want to launch a first strike in order to eliminate the Egyptian Army before they have a chance to invade. The President said that without absolute proof, he will not support a first strike. If he's right and Nasser backs down, well then the status quo is maintained and everything returns to normal. However, if he is wrong and the Egyptians do launch a first strike, Israel will cease to exist and the Soviets will control the entire Middle East."

Jack starts to get the idea that he knows exactly where this conversation is headed. Smiling broadly with a flash of excitement in his eyes, Jack says to Zimmerman "So Deputy Director you need me to go find proof." Zimmerman lets out a hardy laugh and standing from his chair shouts "Precisely! I'm sending you to Israel. I've told Israeli Intelligence, Mossad, that you are coming. You are to go to Tel Aviv, link up with Mossad and get me that proof."

Jack's mind starts racing. He is sweating with excitement. He can hardly contain himself. Jack stands up from his chair as Zimmerman hands him a folder with his airplane ticket and dossier. Zimmerman reaches out and shakes Jack's hand. Placing his left hand on Jack's upper arm Zimmerman says "Find out what that shmuck Nasser is up to. Find me the proof." Looking right into his eyes Jack tells Zimmerman "You can count on me Sir. I will not fail you." Zimmerman slaps Jack on the shoulder and tells him "I know you won't. Good luck and God speed."

Jack walks out of the Office. His heart is pounding out of his chest. "Thank God I'm going back into the field" Jack thinks to himself. He skims over the ticket and notices that his flight leaves tomorrow morning. Just enough time to go home, pack and eat. Jack can barely unclench his hands. He is nervous, excited and overjoyed all at the same time. It is the most bizarre feeling in the world but also the greatest. As Jack heads to his car he is also hit by the tremendous magnitude of the task before him. The fate of not just Israel, but the Middle East and possibly the whole free world is at stake. Failure is not an option


	3. Chapter 3

Marchand T. MacDermotRoe

CHAPTER III

The crashing sound of gunfire rings in Jack's ears. The darkness is deep, almost unending. Jack can feel the cold air brushing against his cheeks. It is a penetrating, numbing cold that stabs straight to the bone. The crunch of the frozen grass underneath his boots is dampened by a slick and slippery feeling. _Blood_. Jack looks forward in the darkness but sees only distant flashes. The crack of a rifle echoes forth. Out in the darkness Jack can hear men screaming, some in anger and some in pain.

Jack can feel the cold wooden frame of his .30-06 M1 Garand Rifle. Suddenly, a figure starts running towards him. Jack raises his rifle and squeezes the trigger. Click. _What the fuck!_ Click. _WHY WON'T YOU FIRE!_ Click Click Click. The figure runs towards him, bayonet glimmering in the darkness. The figure clad in a dirty and tattered khaki uniform screams "GIM-ILSEONG SULYEONGNIM MANSE!". Panic, fear, heart racing, Jack can see the bayonet aimed for his abdomen. Swinging his rifle around to wield it as a bat Jack prepares to swing and then…

Bing bong. "Shalom Alaykem Ladies and Gentlemen." Jack's eyes snap open as he awakens to the voice of his pilot on board an El Al flight. "We are now beginning our decent into Lod International Airport" the pilot cheerful lets out over the intercom. Jack takes a long deep breath. Wiping the sweat from his forehead he thinks to himself _God in heaven. My heart won't stop racing_. He feels his heart pounding like a battering ram against his rib cage. He looks over at the poor gentlemen sitting next to him. The man, a middle aged fellow in his blue three piece suit, was clearly perturbed and asked "Ma Nishma? Are you alright?" Jack grinds his teeth a little and then lets out a long sigh. Jack then looks right at the man and gives him a simple answer "I just don't like to fly."

Getting off the plane Jack collects his luggage and heads out to the front of the airport. Once outside two tall men in dark suits approach him. "Mr. Ryan you are to come with us" says one of the men. "I take it that you gentlemen are from the Institute?" Jack asks them, with his usual talent for stating the obvious. "If you please Mr. Ryan time is of the essence." The two men shuffle Jack and his luggage into a black limo with absurdly tinted windows and they are off.

Jack sits in the back and observes the rather plane interior of the limo. _Well at least I didn't have to wait on the tarmac. God I could use a drink. Figures Mossad limo wouldn't have a mini-bar._ Jack sits back and tries hard to peer through the tinted windows. He watches the scenery of this city of new and old go quickly by. It takes Jack back to his youth, this was not Jack's first time in Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel.

As the limo takes a turn past Independence Park Jack feels a whirl of emotions sweeping over him. He remembers his college days, just after the war, when he came to Israel as a student. He remembers how he used to take walks through Independence Park and how special those walks were. They were special because he took them with a beautiful young woman, Rivka Yonah. She was his age, blonde, slender, with red cheeks and a smile that could turn the darkest night into day. She was sharp as a bayonet and the only woman Jack felt, could truly give him a run for his money whether discussing Shakespeare or Marx. The very thought of her put a smile to his face.

However, as with all dreams pleasant or not, Jack was brought back into the real world by the sudden stop of his limo outside a rather non-descript building. One of the individuals that picked Jack up, opens the door and tells Jack "Follow me." Jack follows into the building. As he enters the first thing he notices is a slogan emblazoned on the wall. בתחבולות תעשה לך מלחמה Jack thinks to himself _be-tachbūlōt ta`aseh lekhā milchāmāh, For by Wise Guidance You Can Wage War._ Truer words were never spoken.

Jack always knew that the State of Israel depended entirely on having good intelligence to ensure its survival. It is a Jewish island in an Arab sea, surrounded by twenty-two Arab countries all pledged to the destruction of the tiny Jewish nation. It was intelligence that saved Israel during the War of Independence in 1948 when the Armies of Egypt, Jordan, Syria, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and many others invaded Israel. They tried to snuff out the State of Israel at its birth, but the nation survived, by courage of its citizens, the blood of its soldiers and the skills of its intelligence agents.

Winding his way down the halls Jack is taken to a remote end of the building, they head down a long hallway lined with offices. At the very end Jack's escorts stop at the last office on the left and knock on the door. "MA!" a loud voice bellow's out the Hebrew word for WHAT. The escort opens the door and rather unceremoniously shoves Jack into the small office. It's a rather cluttered office. Books are piled up on the desk and the floor. The smell of tobacco hangs in the air, along with what Jack can only assume is the aroma of a week-old falafel sandwich.

Standing in front of his desk is a rather tall and broad Mossad agent. His muscles seem to make the seams of his suit appear to strain, while his face is marked by a deep scar on his right cheek. With a big gesture and a wry smile, the agent says to Jack "So you must be the goy the CIA sent us. I'm Eli Jaros." Reaching out for a handshake Jack shakes his hand. _What a grip. His shake is as strong as his personality_. "Agent Jack Ryan. Good to meet you" Jack says. "Take a sit boychick we have much to talk about." Letting go of Jack's hand Eli gestures to the chair in front of his desk, which appears to have a pile of field manuals on it. "Just put those down anywhere, I know where everything is" Eli says as he sits at his chair.

With mild frustration Jack places the books on the floor and has a seat. _He called me Boychik, Yiddish for youngman. We gotta be the same age._ "So Eli the agency has put me at your disposal. I've had a chance to review the aerial photographs but some of the reports themselves seem…" Eli immediately interrupts Jack, looking him square in the eyes "Jack I need to be completely frank with you, do you know why you're here?" Furrowing his brow and taken aback Jack replies "To provide proof of the Egyptian Army's real intentions towards Israel for my government." Eli nods responsively but interjects once again "That's only partially true."

"There are two factions in the Israeli government right now. One, led by the National Religious Party, believe the Arabs won't attack and the other led by Defense Minister Moshe Dayan believe that they will. Prime Minister Eshkol seems to be leaning towards those who naively believe that Nasser won't attack us. Our intelligence reports have shown that the Egyptians indeed plan to attack within the next 3 to 5 days. If we don't strike first Israel will cease to exist. However, we can't seem to convince the Prime Minister of this fact. That's where you come in. I requested an American agent to accompany me on a fact-finding mission behind Egyptian lines. If we come back with proof they will have to believe us because you are an impartial witness."

Jack thinks to himself _well I suppose it's to be expected. In this world nothing is ever entirely what it seems._ "What kind of proof do we have to find" Jack asks. "Something conclusive and irrefutable. If we don't, then we will be celebrating the next Shabbat in the Mediterranean" Eli responds with a slow and heavy voice. Letting those words hang in the air, Jack realizes that the clock is truly ticking. Looking across the desk and taking a deep breath Jack asks, "So when do we leave?" With a laugh that could only mean trouble Eli belts out "Right now. I hope you slept on the flight here. I'll brief you on the way. Have you ever jumped before?"

 _Jumped? What does he mean jumped? Oh God I think he wants me to parachute._ Jack standing up simultaneously, and clearly with hesitation in his voice tells Eli "If you mean out of an airplane, then the answer is no. I can't wrap my mind around why anyone would want to leap out of a perfectly good airplane." Eli bursts into laughter and walking around the desk slaps Jack on the back and tells him "Don't worry Boychik it's really not that hard. You'll be attached to the inside of the plane by a line that will hopefully pull your parachute out and you'll float safely to the ground." Jack looks right up at Eli "What do you mean by hopefully? What if it doesn't open?" Eli just looks down at the ground and says "we'll be flying in pretty low so give it about two minutes and it won't be your problem anymore."

 _That's really reassuring. Great these people are going to get me killed. Their back up plan is that in the event my chute doesn't open I die. Perfect. I wonder what other fantastic opportunities I will have to have brains splattered for freedom_. The anxiety was very clear on Jack's face so as they walked out of the office Eli tried to put the American at ease. "You remind me of my first jump. It was in 1956, I was so scared, I had never jumped out of an actual plane before. Suddenly, I was parachuting into the Sinai surrounded by the Egyptian Army. I had never been so scared. Fortunately, I closed my eyes counted to three and before I knew it my chute opened, and I was on the ground."

This frankness did put Jack at ease a bit. Although, Jack was a little unnerved by Eli's outgoing and flamboyant nature. _Of course we'll be stuck in a tiny, cold airplane together and then, assuming I survive the fall, I'll have to wonder through the desert with a total extrovert looking for the Egyptian Army._ Part of Jack couldn't help but slightly regret his decision to leave the desk. At least behind the desk he didn't have to deal with other human beings. He could go to work, analyze some pictures, read through some dossiers, go home, have a drink and go to what was technically sleep, all without having to deal with other human beings.

However, all things being equal, Jack knew he would feel better once they were in the field. Even if Eli insisted on telling stories and talking the entire time, Jack figured that he could just tune Eli out. It's hard to have too much chatter when your skulking around Egyptian military bases. That is all assuming that the Egyptian Army isn't bluffing and decides to pick up and go home. This could all be part of a giant ruse and Jack will have to spend the next week alone with Eli wandering through the desert. Alternatively, they could land right into the middle of the entire Egyptian Army.

Jack's mind was running through scenarios as they made their way out the door to the back parking lot of Mossad Headquarters and out to a small Yugo sitting near the door. "Say what you will for Tito, the Yugoslavs make a good car" Eli let out as he unlocked the car. Jack got into the passenger's seat. _God these things are tiny._ Eli seemed to dwarf the car with his size and appeared to barely fit himself in the driver's seat. However, in spite of this he looked at the car with pride and an element of adoration. Eli let Jack know "this is the first car I ever owned. I always lived in cities and never needed a car but when I started working for Mossad I bought one."

 _I suppose the pride makes sense. Still though is there a story for everything_. Jack remembered that it is a uniquely Israeli quality to attach a story to everything. Jack couldn't help but be thrown back. As Eli's voice faded in the distance of his mind Jack was drawn once again to Rivka. Jack remembered sitting with her on a sunny afternoon in a café in central Tel Aviv listening to her talk passionately about Descartes and Trotsky. Jack would argue the failings of Bolshevism espouse the ideas of Winston Churchill in return. He would watch Rivka's cheeks turn bright red when he'd call her a Jewish Socialist.

Yet on another occasion Jack remembered laying with her on a bed in his small rented room. He would have his arm around her, as she lay by his side, her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Jack would sit there reading Shakespeare's sonnets to Rivka as she lay there with her eyes closed in the tenderest embrace. There was never a moment when Jack felt true happiness except right in that instance. The thought still brought a warmth to a heart that had almost learned to stop feeling.

 _Rivka_. Being back in Israel brought these memories flooding back. Memories that were beautiful and yet painful. He had avoided thinking about her for so long but now the world he had left her in was all around him. Every street there was something to remind him of her. A part of him that he had left in Israel suddenly felt reconnected. When Jack closed his eyes and thought of Rivka, he could almost feel her hair brushing against his face. When he breathed in he could almost feel her breath on his cheek. When he reached out he could almost feel her cheek in his hand. He could hear the pitter patter of rain on the roof of that Tel Aviv hotel all those years ago and feel her beating heart pressed against his.

SLAM! Jack's head goes right into the dashboard of the car as Eli slams on the breaks. "Zay Moykhl. I always miss the turn to the airfield" Eli says with clearly an element of embarrassment. "Don't worry about it. I needed something to wake me up anyway" Jack replies trying to ignore the throbbing pain now present in his nose. Turning on the airfield they approach a small hanger with a French made NORD 2501 Noratlas transport aircraft. Along the wall was a row of tables with equipment sitting on it, weapons radios, and ammunition. Next to the aircraft was a smaller table with what looked like the flight crew standing around apparently getting their mission brief.

Parking the vehicle Eli looked over at Jack "are you ready for this my friend?" Jack looked Eli straight in eyes and told him "I was ready when I landed." Getting out of the vehicle they headed to grab their equipment change into uniform and board the plane. Finally, they were leaving, and on mission. Jack knew the fate of Israel rested on what they discovered, and most importantly what he discovered in the Sinai. Both the government of Israel and the United States were counting on him to succeed. He must not, he cannot, fail.


	4. Chapter 4

Marchand T. MacDermotRoe

CHAPTER IV

The planes shake as the engines rev and the props sputter up. The gravel makes a crunching sound under the wheels as the aircraft taxis down the runway. _I hate flying. I hate flying. I hate flying._ Jack can feel his palms getting sweaty as the plane rolls into position for takeoff. He glances around at the inside of the NORD 2501 Noratlas and looks at the cargo netting everywhere. The plane looks so bare. Nothing inside but Jack, Eli and a rather disgruntled old crew chief. _Where did I put my flask? God I need a drink. Damn….it's under my harness. Maybe my cigarettes, I think I have my camels. I wonder what ass clown thought it was a good idea to associate camels with cigarettes. Those animals are assholes._ Jack is trying desperately to think about literally anything else in order to drown out the sense of impending doom he feels every time he flies.

Suddenly, the plane begins rolling forward on the tarmac. Jack sinks into the cargo netting. _Damn this fucking thing hurts_. He feels his blood pressure rising as the plane picks up speed. Finally, his heart drops into his boots as the plane lifts off the ground. _Shit. Fuck. Damn. Fucking Fuck._ The plane climbs rapidly, pulling itself higher and higher. Jack tries to focus his eyesight on the cargo netting directly in front of him. He remembers something an old Staff Sergeant Thomas Dempsy once told him "Just inhale deep, count to ten, then exhale and repeat. It calms the shakiest nerves." Staff Sergeant Dempsy was a good leader.

Jack can feel the plane finally leveling out. _Take off. Take off is the fucking worst._ Jack begins to breathe easier. "That's why you always want to tuck and roll on the landing." Jack can hear Eli's voice coming over his shoulder. _Has he been talking to me this whole time._ "Boychick, are you alright?" Eli asks with a distinctly father look of concern on his face. "Yeah Eli I'm fine. Why?" Jack says trying to pass off his tension. With a smile Eli says "Your hands my friend. You look like your trying to strangle a chicken." Jack looks down and realizes his knuckles are white because his fists are clenched so tight. Loosening up his grip Jack lets out a heavy sigh. Placing his hand on Jack's shoulder Eli asks, "Are you sure you're alright?" With a shrug Jack coldly responds, "Yeah I'm fine."

In truth Jack was far from fine. He hated flying for a very good reason. It was October 1950 and Jack was a young Private flying into Korea on board a Douglas C-47. Jack can still remember the rattling of equipment, the roar of the engines, the muffled sound of men quietly praying. No one spoke, except to make their peace with their God. The dull noise was broken by the sound of men puking onto the floor of the aircraft. The smell of vomit from the airsick soldiers permeated the air.

Jack was seated next to two of his closest friends, Private Francis "Frank" Marconi and Corporal Mitch Willis. Private Marconi was a tough Italian kid from the Bronx who loved good food and beautiful women. Corporal Willis was an academic. Bespectacled and with a passion for Shakespear, no one would of guessed that he had volunteered to join the Army the day war broke out in Korea. All three had attended Basic Combat Training together. The three men huddled together and looked at each other as the plane made its decent.

The next thing Jack remembers is a deafening crash as the side of the aircraft was shredded by large chunks of flying metal, shrapnel. The pieces of metal tore through the cabin, ricocheting around the compartment. Jack was knocked forward but remained in his seat. Clutching his rifle, the sound of air rushing through the new holes in the plane was pierced by screaming. Jack opened his eyes to see that Mitch and Frank were no longer next to him. He looked in front of him, down by his feet and saw his two friends, what was left of them, in a bloody and mangled him on the floor. A voice screamed "BRACE YOURSELVES!" and the aircraft crashed into the dirt runway. It skidded for about a hundred meters before coming to rest at the side of the runway. Apparently, the airfield was still being contested by the North Korean People's Army.

Jack was grabbed by his collar and pulled to his feet by Staff Sergeant Dempsy. A big bear of a man, he pulled Jack out of the door of the plane and onto the runway. Jack still in a daze, pointed to the plane and bellowed "I gotta go back for them!" Staff Sergeant Dempsy grabbed Jacks are with a vice grip and bellowed "They're gone Ryan. They're gone. But we're here and we're gonna take this airfield. NOW COME WITH ME AND KILL THOSE COMMIE BASTARDS!" Jack left Mitch and Frank on that airplane. They charged up the side of the hill overlooking the airfield and took the North Korean positions. Jack personally bayonetted one of the North Korean gunners. Just like that North Korean, Mitch and Frank still rest in Korea.

Ever since then Jack has had an intense and passionate hatred of flying. Every time he clamors into a plane the anxiety he feels, the memories all flood back. It pulses through his brain and makes him feel as if he is reliving every horrible moment. The roar of the engines, the awful sense of dread, the smell of vomit, blood and smoke. It all feels so real, so vivid, so gut wrenching. There is no experience on earth that can cause such an intense, penetrating feeling like straddling that line between life and death. It is terrifying, it is brutal, it is absurd and only one who has lived through it can truly understand it.

"….Don't lock your knees or you'll break your legs." Eli's voice once again brings Jack back into the present. "Just remember keep your legs bent and you'll be fine. Do you understand?" Eli says with a reassuring look on his face. He seems to have a misguided sense that Jack has been listening this whole time. "Yeah I think so" Jack let's says with a total lack of confidence. "Look Jack I know you've never done this but follow my lead. When the time come hook up to the plane and when you get to the door just step off the edge. Tuck your chin in, close your eyes and wait for the sudden jerk, that'll be your chute opening." Eli has clearly done this many times before. Jack does feel the need to ask "So what happens if I don't feel a jerk?" Eli bellows out a hardy laugh, "Khavehr! If you don't feel the jerk just count to thirty and it won't be won't be your problem anymore!" _God I love Israeli optimism. Only they can look at life and death with the same sense of humor._

The Crew Chief, a hunched middle aged airman, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, comes over and taps Eli and Jack on the shoulder. With a distinctly German accent the man says "Mein Herren, we be over ze drop-zone in few minutes. You better get ready." Jack starts tightening his helmet and adjusting the straps on his harness. _Are we ready to go already? Man I must've zoned out for longer than I thought. Did Eli seriously not notice that I wasn't listening for over an hour? Maybe he knew and just kept talking anyway._ "That Chief is Simon Heidenheim. A good man" Eli says. "You know to hide from the Nazi's he joined the Luftwaffe. Talk about hiding in plain sight. It saved his life. He came here after the war and flew with the Israeli Air Force. Shot down seventeen Jordanian planes…..in a German Messerschmitt BF 109. Ah the irony of that. The man is legend!"

 _Wow. I guess you never know._ To be fair, incredible though this man's survival was Jack was far more concerned with his own immediate survival. _What was it Eli said. Hook up, fall, bent knees._ Jack was really regretting not having paid more attention to Eli but sometimes focusing on his rambling stories can be difficult. It is often hard to filter out the important from the nonsensical. The two men stand up and Eli helps Jack hook his parachute up to the inside of the plane. Eli then steps in front of Jack tells him "Khavehr just follow my lead. Do as I do and you'll be fine. Remember just fall and if you don't feel a jerk…." Jack interjects "It won't be my problem for long." Eli laughs "Good man!"

The Crew Chief opens the door and the sound of rushing air and the cold breeze fills the cabin. Eli steps forward towards the door with Jack right behind him. Jack pulls his collar up and his jacket down. He adjusts his harness again and again just making sure its tight. Strapped to his right side is his Israeli made Uzi Submachine Gun. The weapon feels like it is digging into his side adding to Jack's over sense of discomfort. Jack stretches his neck, and rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen it up.

Jack has his eyes firmly fixed on the two lights by the door. Red means don't jump, green means jump. The pilot control the lights, so when he knows that they are over the drop zone, he switches the light to green and the men jump. Too easy. Assuming, that is, that his navigator has read the map right and they are in fact over the drop zone. If they're wrong, Jack and Eli could land in the Red Sea, the Mediterranean, President Nasser's living room. Either way, this is just yet another thing to worry about assuming Jack's parachute even opens. Who knows what kind of person packed the damn thing. It could have either been a jump master or some dimwitted, moron they plucked out of the staff kitchen. Jack has no idea.

Jack peers over Eli's shoulder and out the door of the plane to see absolutely nothing. Just darkness, total darkness. _Well that shouldn't be surprising. What did I expect to see. Its night after all you idiot._ Jack looks back up at the light again and in a flash it goes from red to that bright, nerve wracking green. Crew Chief Heidenheim gives the thumbs up and Eli without hesitation falls out of the aircraft. As if on autopilot, Jack steps to the door, puts his across his chest and steps off into nothingness. Jack has begun the plunge, he jumped out of the plane before his brain had a chance to realize what at happened. Now he is plunging towards the earth as the cold air rushes across his cheeks and his stomach is in his throat.


End file.
